


stay with you till the sunrise

by thespacenico



Series: klancemas 2018 [21]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Nightmare mention, Sharing a Bed, adam is s t r e s s e d, also!!!, bed sharing occurs, dare i say....., hand-holding of course, important things that should have been addressed in canon!!!, like a LOT of important things, some hardcore communication, some pidge/keith bonding, some pidge/lance bonding, there's fluff but this is also a heavier part compared to the others, they both have good advice for each other, they're still learning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-15 09:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17526521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thespacenico/pseuds/thespacenico
Summary: klancemas day twenty-one: pajamas





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT:  
> \- hello! if you are stumbling upon this randomly, this is actually part 21 of an overarching klancemas series! each part is actually one part of one big story (in other words, i recommend starting at the very beginning with part 1 or this will make no sense out of context!!)  
> \- also, this part will have two chapters!  
> \- devon ([dabishawk](https://dabishawk.tumblr.com/) on tumblr) is an actual angel and takes time out of her day to look through most of these parts for me. devon if you're reading this i love you 
> 
> ALSO IMPORTANT!!!!!!  
> [lance to keith](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=satAFJr5EX0)  
> [keith to lance](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LeJMYRyGT6Y)

It hits midnight.

Lance still hasn’t responded to any of Keith’s messages.

At this point, Keith really doesn’t have any idea what he should do. He doesn’t know if sending more messages would make things better or worse, and he doubts that Lance is asleep, but he’s not sure he would be welcome if he tried going to his room.

He feels helpless, and he hates it.

Adam had come in a while earlier, before he and Shiro had gone to bed. He’d just leaned against the door and tucked his hands in his pockets and looked at Keith sitting on his bed and—sulking, Shiro would have called it. “Doing okay?”

“Doing great,” Keith mumbled.

Adam tapped his fingers against his legs. “This is normal.”

Keith closed his eyes and breathed out through his nose. “Is it.”

“I could have phrased that differently,” Adam admitted. “Just—it means you care.”

 _And yet I’ve still managed to screw everything up,_ Keith had thought.

He didn’t say anything else. Adam tapped his fingers some more.

“Goodnight,” Adam said, and then he’d left the room.

Keith thinks that Shiro must have told the others not to bother him or Lance, because he’d half-expected Allura to come bursting into his room and demand to know all of the details about the day. Only at this point, hours have passed since they got back, and no one but Adam has come into the room. Even that was a couple of hours ago.

Any other night, Keith would normally be working on his letter. Now he can hardly even look at the corner of the room where it’s tucked away with some books without being overwhelmed with a wave of anxiety. At first he was just scared that he’d never figure out what to write, but now—and alright, maybe he’s overreacting a little—he’s scared he won’t get the chance to give it to Lance, period.

He’s changed into a T-shirt and shorts, but other than that he hasn’t moved from his bed. A part of him insists that Lance will respond eventually; is so sure he’ll send a message back that Keith hasn’t even bothered getting under the covers. Maybe that part of him is wrong.

Either way, that doesn’t stop him from checking the notifications on his handheld every minute or two in case he’s somehow missed something. He finds himself going back into his photo album and pulling up the picture they took at the arcade, cheeks squished together and smiling happily. Keith glances at the Charizard plushie sitting beside him and sighs, falling back onto his pillows.

He stares up at the picture. Lance smiles back down at him. He drops his handheld onto his chest and closes his eyes. “Idiot,” he mutters to himself. He pushes a hand through his hair and holds it there, opening his eyes to glare at the ceiling.

It occurs to him that he promised Krolia he would try to call later, and he groans inwardly. On one hand, she’ll know something is up if he doesn’t call. On the other hand, she’ll _definitely_ know something is up if he does, because there’s no way he’ll be able to force a natural tone.

He squints down at his handheld for a moment before sighing again and picking it back up. It only rings once or twice before Krolia picks up.

_“I was starting to think you’d forgotten to call.”_

Keith shifts back into a sitting position and clears his throat. “Hey, Mom.”

And just like that, she knows. _“You sound upset.”_ Keith opens his mouth. Closes it. Swallows down the feeling of dread crawling up his throat and desperately tries to form a response. Krolia’s voice softens. _“Something happened.”_

Keith closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Yeah.”

She’s quiet on the other end for a moment. _“Do you need to talk about it?”_

Does he want to talk about it? No. But does he need to? “Yeah,” he repeats, willing his stomach to stop churning.

She waits patiently as he gathers his thoughts, picking at the sheets with his free hand. “I think Lance and I got into our first fight,” he starts slowly.

 _“Already?”_ Krolia teases light-heartedly, and he knows she’s only trying to lighten the mood, but he lets out a frustrated breath and she redirects. _“Sorry. Go on.”_

Keith rakes a hand through his hair, trying to decide how much of the story is really relevant. He swallows again. “Well—he’s seemed so tired lately, like he hasn’t been getting enough sleep. And I just… wanted to know what’s wrong, but I think I pushed too hard and I made him upset.” Krolia hums sympathetically, but other than that she keeps quiet. Keith bites his lip and twists his fingers into the covers. “And I tried to message him after we got back to apologize, but it’s been hours now and he still hasn’t answered, and I—” He takes another breath to steady himself. “I don’t know what to do.”

 _“It sounds like you’ve done all there is to do,”_ Krolia says gently.

Keith tucks his knees up to his chest. “I’m just mad at myself for not noticing sooner.”

_“Would it not have ended up in a fight either way?”_

“...Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Krolia huffs a laugh, sounding like a puff of air in Keith’s ear. _“If Lance won't speak about what's bothering him now, it's unlikely he would have if you'd noticed earlier. D_ _on’t be too hard on yourself.”_  

“But—”

 _“Keith. Sometimes waiting is your only option.”_ Keith deflates, his shoulders slumping as Krolia continues. _“He’ll come to you. When he’s ready.”_

Keith curls the Charizard plushie into his free arm and squishes him to his chest. “I guess,” he mumbles.

 _“I know you’re worried,”_ she says softly. _“But he will come around. He knows how much you care about him.”_

 _Does he?_ Keith thinks.

“I guess,” he repeats quietly.

 _“One moment.”_ There’s a little rustling on the other end of the phone. Keith hears someone else’s voice, but it’s too distant and muffled for him to make out who it is. Krolia returns a moment later, chuckling. _“Romelle says hello.”_

Despite his current situation, Keith’s mouth twitches up into a small smile. “I can tell you’ve been spending a lot of time with her. She’s rubbing off on you.”

_“I don’t know what you mean.”_

“You sent me a heart today.”

_“Romelle explained to me that’s how you express your liking for something.”_

“I mean, sometimes. It’s normally supposed to represent love, though.”

 _“Yes. And I love you,”_ Krolia says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and Keith’s smile grows and the same feeling of warmth that always comes with those words blooms in his chest. _“Simple.”_

“I know, Mom.”

_“You could at least say it back.”_

Keith scoffs, still smiling. “I love you,” he says obligingly.

 _“I know.”_ They’re both quiet again for a moment. Keith squishes the plushie and wiggles his toes. _“How was the rest of the day?”_ Krolia asks eventually.

It’s impossible for Keith not to smile when he thinks back on the rest of the day, because even if things went south at the end, the rest of the day was still—good. It was really good. “He sort of sprung it on me this morning. I kind of almost stabbed him.”

Krolia sounds almost proud. _“Still sleeping with your blade?”_

“I think space made me paranoid.”

She chuckles. _“Maybe so. Where did he take you?”_

Keith opens his mouth to begin recounting their trip, but then his handheld buzzes against his ear. “Oh, hang on a second.” He briefly lowers it from his ear with the intention to silence his notifications, not even thinking about the fact that it’s past midnight and there’s only one person who would be messaging him this late and he’s been waiting for said person to message him _all night—_ he does a double take when he sees the message on the screen.

 

 **lancey lance:** can i come to your room?

 

His heart leaps into his throat and he quickly presses his handheld back to his ear. “Mom? Sorry, can I—I need—”

 _“Go,”_ she interrupts, sounding amused. _“We can catch up later.”_

“Okay,” Keith says in a rush. “Thank you, I love you, I promise I’ll call tomorrow—”

_“Bye Keith.”_

“Bye,” he says quickly, and then he doesn’t even bother to end the call before tossing his handheld onto the bed. He slips to the floor and dashes for his dresser, haphazardly shoving a sweatshirt over his head before hurrying for the door.

His heart is pounding with anticipation as he creeps across the hallway to Lance’s room, stopping just outside of the door and raising a fist to knock. He pauses, tugging at the hem of his sweatshirt. Lance asked if he could come to his room. Maybe he should go back and text him and wait for him to come over instead. Then again, he’s already here and he doesn’t want to wait any longer. He takes a deep breath and quietly opens the door.

Lance doesn’t even notice him at first. He’s sitting on the top of his covers in the middle of his bed, knees tucked to his chest, arms wrapped around them, chin resting on the top while he stares down at his handheld. Probably waiting for Keith to text him back. He’s still wearing Keith’s hoodie, sleeves pulled over his hands, so Keith thinks maybe that’s sort of a good sign that he hasn’t messed up too badly.

He opens the door a little wider and steps inside. “Lance?”

Lance jumps, his head whipping around and his eyes widening a little when he sees Keith standing there. “Oh,” he squeaks, his voice small. “Hi.”

They stare at each other from across the room for a moment. Keith slowly pushes the door closed behind him and stays where he is, still unsure whether or not he’s necessarily welcome. “Hey,” he says quietly.

The room seems to stand still. Maybe it’s a bit dramatic, but Keith almost feels like the entire world is standing still. Lance opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but closes it again, and Keith’s heart twists unpleasantly in his chest.

His throat feels dry when he swallows. “Just tell me what you need,” he says softly, and either it was the right or wrong thing to say because Lance’s expression wavers. “I can go get Allura, or Hunk, or I can—go make you hot chocolate or something. Tell me to leave if that’s what you want. Or I can stay here or come over there and talk or listen or do nothing, just—” He takes a breath. “Just tell me what you need.”

Lance still seems unable to speak, his face strangely blank. The silence makes Keith’s heart crawl up his throat the further it goes on, and for a split second he thinks maybe it would be best for him to leave. But then it’s like Lance’s walls suddenly come crumbling down, because his gaze falls and he seems to tuck tighter into himself and when he finally speaks, Keith has to strain to hear his voice.

“I just don’t want to be by myself,” he whispers.

Keith stares at him. And then he takes a small, cautious step forward, and when Lance does nothing to stop him, he crosses the rest of the room and carefully climbs onto the bed. The lower half of Lance’s face is covered where he rests his chin on his folded arms, staring ahead as Keith sits beside him, leaving a generous amount of space between them just in case.

For a while they just sit, and Keith—doesn’t know what to do. He’s torn between asking the million questions rushing through his head and keeping quiet because he’s scared of saying something that will upset Lance again, or even more than he already seems to be. And it’s so hard, because every muscle in Keith’s body is screaming for him to reach out, to say something, _anything,_ but all he can do is sit and just wait and hope that whatever this is doing for Lance is enough.

He’s not sure how much time passes before Lance finally speaks, and Keith almost misses it because he’s still so quiet.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

Keith’s brow furrows as he turns to look at him. “What?”

Lance still won’t meet his eyes. “I’m sorry I ruined our date.”

Keith stares at him, incredulous. “You didn’t ruin it, Lance. Today was one of the best days I’ve had in a really long time. Probably the best day I’ve had since we got back to Earth.”

Lance goes quiet again for a moment. “You’re not mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you?” Keith asks softly.

“I just—” Lance bites his lip. “—wanted it to be perfect.”

“It _was_ perfect,” Keith insists, but Lance doesn’t seem to be convinced because he pulls his knees tighter to his chest, eyes cast down on his feet. Keith’s fingers itch with the urge to reach out and comfort him, but he stays put. “I’m the one who wouldn’t stop pressing when you clearly didn’t want to talk.”

“But I shouldn’t have—” Lance lets out a breath and runs a hand through his hair, leaving it there and closing his eyes. “God, I’m so stupid. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

“I kind of deserved it,” Keith admits, looking down at his hands. “I should’ve respected that you didn’t want to talk about—whatever it is.” Lance opens his mouth to argue, but Keith quickly cuts him off. “Look, it’s just—you’re always doing things for me. And checking to make sure things aren’t too much and asking if I’m okay and I—” He takes a breath to collect himself and looks back at him. “I wanna be that person for you too, Lance. Let me be that person for you.”  

The way that Lance squeezes his eyes shut and takes a shaky breath makes Keith’s heart clench in his chest. “I’m trying,” he whispers.

Keith hesitates, and then he moves to sit cross-legged in front of Lance, tentatively extending a hand to touch his knee. “I’m right here,” he murmurs. “Talk to me.” And when Lance finally, _finally_ looks at him, Keith’s breath catches in his throat at the sight of the tears brimming in his eyes. “Lance,” he breathes; Lance squeezes his eyes shut again, a silent tear slips down his cheek, and Keith can’t hold himself back anymore. He reaches out and cups his face in his hands, carefully brushing the tear away with his thumb. “Lance. Hey, what’s going on?”

Lance’s hands tremble a little as they come up to settle around Keith’s wrists, holding tight as if he’s been searching for something to help anchor him this entire time. His voice wobbles, forced and a little raspy. “It’s a lot of things.”

Keith wipes away a second tear from Lance’s face, his heart sinking in his chest because—he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand how Lance had seemed so happy earlier, so bright and carefree, and now he’s crying in the dark of his room because something is wrong—he doesn’t understand how he didn’t notice before, he _doesn’t understand—_

As if he can read Keith’s thoughts, Lance shakes his head slightly. “Stop.”

“Lance—” Keith tries, but Lance just shakes his head again, a little harder.

“You always find a way to blame yourself,” he mumbles.

Keith stares at him for a moment longer, and then slowly lowers his hands from his face, shifting closer still as Lance takes the opportunity to wipe at his cheeks. “I just want to know what’s wrong,” he says, as gently as he can. “Please. I want to fix it.”

Lance laughs then, but it’s empty and bitter and so out of character that it sends chills down Keith’s spine. “You can’t fix this, Keith.”

 _Yes I can,_ Keith wants to say. _I can and I will, because if this is hurting you then it’s hurting me and I don’t want this for you, I want you to be happy, please let me make you happy._

“Will you at least tell me why you’ve been so tired lately?” he asks instead. Lance presses his mouth into a thin line, his eyes downcast and arms wrapped again around his knees. Keith hesitates, and then carefully touches his hand, unsure exactly what Lance would actually appreciate right now. “You haven’t been getting enough sleep,” he tries, a bit more definitively. A pause, and then Lance slowly nods his head in confirmation. “But there’s more to it than that,” Keith continues quietly. “Isn’t there?”

He can see Lance’s jaw working, but he decides not to press any further and waits, until Lance finally takes a deep breath, and curls his fingers around Keith’s and Keith feels just a little better. “I—miss my family.”

Keith feels a pang of sympathy. “You’re homesick.”

Lance rubs his eyes with his other hand, and he looks so, _so_ tired and Keith suddenly feels so selfish for never even thinking about how much different and even uncomfortable this month must have been for Lance so far. “This is the first time I’ve spent Christmas away from home,” Lance mumbles. “I’m pretty sure Raquel and Veronica are still pissed at me for coming here. I wasn’t even planning to in the first place, but mami told me I should, because you guys are family too and this was a one-time deal, so… here I am. Not that I regret coming or anything, just—” He sighs, voice going quiet. “You know.”

“I’m sorry,” Keith murmurs, squeezing his hand. “Of course you miss them. I know how much they mean to you.” Lance doesn’t say anything else and Keith bites his lip, slowly smoothing his hand over the sheets beside him.

Not that he thinks Lance’s homesickness isn’t completely warranted and valid, but Keith has been around Lance when he was homesick before. And it’s never been something that he necessarily tries to hide, or been particularly hesitant to express. Sure, he gets emotional about it—of course he does, his family is the most important thing in the universe to him—but this is different. Keith knows there has to be something else at play here.

He waffles a bit, tracing a faint circle across Lance’s knuckles. “Is there anything else?” he asks carefully.

Another moment of quiet. Another tiny, deliberate nod, like Lance had hardly been able to bring himself to do it.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Keith amends, despite how desperately he wants to know.

Lance’s mouth opens. Closes. He swallows, and when he speaks again, his voice is so small that it doesn’t even sound like his. “I’m too scared to go to sleep.”

Keith’s brow furrows, and he starts to ask why before it clicks, and he doesn’t think it’s possible for his heart to sink any lower in his chest. “You’re having nightmares.”

Lance takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Yeah.”

And suddenly Keith is afraid to ask why. Because what kind of nightmares could possibly leave Lance so terrified of even closing his eyes, let alone being by himself for the night?

 _And how could you possibly not have noticed?_ Keith thinks guiltily.

He’s not sure where to go from here. If he asks what the nightmares are about, Lance might close himself off again. Maybe he isn’t ready to go that far yet, and that’s fine, but—on the other hand, it’s possible that he would open up with a little prompting.

Keith could ask him a million different things. He could ask him when they started, how long he’s been having them, how often, whether or not he’s told anyone else, if this is the reason he really stays up so late, what they’re about—

“I used to have nightmares,” he says.

It’s silent. Lance blinks slowly at his feet, before his gaze turns up to Keith, scared and questioning and sympathetic all at once. “You had nightmares?” he repeats softly.

Keith nods, and Lance’s eyes follow his other hand as he reaches up to touch the scar on his cheek. “After I got this.”

Lance’s expression seems to change as he stares at him for a long moment, drifting toward something almost like resignation. Keith’s fingers are cold on his cheek, but no sooner has he pulled them away than Lance’s hand is slipping out of his and coming up to replace it, settling gingerly against his skin. His eyes flutter a little with the contact, but he keeps them on Lance, watching quietly as he lightly traces the outline of his scar.

He feels like he’s holding his breath. Lance’s eyes trail the path across his cheek before his hand stills, coming to rest against his scar, gentle and warm and almost protective, somehow. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

Keith still doesn’t know what he’s sorry for. “I talked to Shiro about them,” he starts, and Lance seems to know where he’s going with this because his shoulders tense a little. “It helped. I promise you it helps.”

His heart is back in his throat as Lance’s eyes focus back on his, because apparently now it’s only ever there or somewhere in his stomach instead of in his chest where it should be.

 _Please,_ he thinks, and something indecipherable flashes across Lance’s face, as if he can hear Keith’s thoughts once again. _Please let me in._

And then something—something like a mix of fear, and panic and dread but also acceptance and determination—something flickers through Lance’s eyes just as he squeezes them shut and lowers his hand from Keith’s face, taking a shaky breath. “Keith, something—” Another breath, like the first wasn’t quite enough. “—something happened, while you were gone.”

Keith frowns slightly, because yeah, a lot happened while he was gone. But he keeps his mouth shut anyway because he’s closer now, closer to knowing and understanding and he’s so close and he doesn’t want to let it slip away.

Lance swallows thickly, and Keith instinctively reaches for Lance’s hand again, squeezing assuringly. It seems to be enough to give Lance the courage he needs to continue. “There was this planet—we were trying recruit more of the Galra-occupied planets when we were working alongside Lotor, and one of them had these plates that protected them from a radiation belt. We got called to come out and help because they were damaged by a competing Galra fleet and they needed to be put back together before the next radiation sequence, or they would’ve been wiped out.”

Keith very, _very_ vaguely remembers being told this story by Hunk, he thinks. It had been a close call, but the team had managed to push all of the plates together and get the power up and running just before the beam passed over. He just doesn’t understand why Lance is telling him this story again now. But still he remains silent, waiting anxiously for Lance’s explanation.

Lance seems to have a harder time going on this time. “Some of the plates were fractured,” he says slowly. “So Allura and I—we were able to meld them together with our Lions, but something went wrong because one of them shorted out and I—” His grip tightens on Keith’s hand. “I pushed Allura out of the way of the blast, and it hit me instead.”

The idea of being hit by some kind of blast of energy has Keith suppressing a shiver, all too familiar with the feeling of it from so many battles. But each of the Lions has sustained damage like that on multiple occasions, taking the brunt of the hit to protect the paladin within. So why does this have Lance so shaken up?

“Then what happened?” he prompts gently.

Maybe Keith should have seen it coming. Maybe it should’ve been obvious, maybe he should’ve been able to piece it together, maybe he should’ve known but maybe it doesn’t matter because he never could have been ready for it.

Lance’s grip on his hand is so tight now it’s almost painful, his eyes suddenly look glazed over and faraway, his breath is still trembling and his entire body is tense and then—

“I died,” he whispers, and it doesn’t even register but Keith still feels his blood go ice cold.

It’s like his brain disconnects from his body, because it hasn’t registered and he doesn’t understand why the room suddenly feels twenty degrees colder and he heard exactly what Lance said but all he can think—say, is: “What?” It _still_ hasn’t registered, yet he feels like he can’t breathe.

Lance’s gaze is unfocused now, like he’s seeing something that isn’t really there. “It was too much for Red to take and I—Keith, I felt it. I felt the exact moment that—” He clutches a hand to his mouth and Keith doesn’t remember when they got there but now there are tears welling in Lance’s eyes, and Keith is still reeling—

“I don’t—Lance, I don’t understand,” Keith whispers. He doesn’t understand, because if Lance—if he _died,_ then why—how is he _here—_

“Allura,” Lance chokes out. “She’s the only reason I’m still—alive, she saved me somehow but I still—” He inhales sharply, tears spilling down his cheeks and Keith keeps staring at him in shock. “I still remember everything—”

Keith thinks maybe he reaches first. Maybe Lance does. Or maybe Lance falls into him at the same time that Keith is reaching for him. Because Keith reaches almost blindly for him and doesn’t have to go far before Lance falls into his chest, fingers twisting in the fabric of his sweatshirt and shoulders shaking as he begins to cry. Keith winds an arm around his back and another around his shoulders and slips his fingers through his hair and holds on, almost like his body knows but his brain is still trying to catch up.

“It hurt,” Lance manages to get out, his breathing ragged and voice tight. “It hurt so much and I was so scared—” His shoulders shake and Keith tucks him closer to his chest. “I was so scared I was never going to see them again.”

He doesn’t have to explain any further for Keith to understand who he means. Throughout all of their time in space, everyone knew that Lance’s family and the thought of coming back home to them was what kept him going. And to think he nearly lost that chance fills Keith with an awful, sickening feeling as the realization of it all really, finally hits—Keith curls his arms tighter around Lance as another sob rips through his body.

“And I was always scared of—of something happening or dying in the middle of nowhere in space and they would just never know what happened to me,” Lance hiccups, taking short breaths in between sobs. “And then I did, I—I actually died—”

“But you’re okay,” Keith murmurs, although at this point he doesn’t know who he’s really trying to comfort. He closes his eyes and leans down to press his forehead into Lance’s hair. “Lance, you’re okay.”

“It’s just that sometimes—” Lance’s voice catches as he chokes back another sob, breath stuttering. “Sometimes I wish Allura didn’t save me so I wouldn’t have to remember and—and I _hate_ myself for that—”

Keith feels like he might be sick. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, and Lance’s entire body shudders and Keith has no idea what he could possibly say to make any of this better, what he could possibly do to make this hurt any less. “I’m so sorry, Lance—” Lance just buries his face in Keith’s shoulder and clings tighter and Keith isn’t sure which of them is more terrified of letting go.

From how long and how hard that Lance cries, Keith can only guess how long this has been weighing on him. And he hates it. He hates it because the longer Lance cries, the heavier it sinks in, and the more he _hates_ it because something this awful and this painful never should have happened to him, never should happened in the first place, never should have been something he had to go through because of all the people in the universe this could have possibly happened to, Lance is the least deserving.

Lance is the least deserving of the fear of losing his family, of nightmares that keep him from sleeping at night, and especially of the knowledge of what death feels like and having to live with it everyday without having a single outlet to project those feelings onto.

And Keith wasn’t there. He wasn’t there for him. Keith nearly lost him and he wasn’t even there and he didn’t even know and it makes him sick to his stomach to imagine the possibility that he could have come back from the Blade to a team missing one of its members, missing the one person that managed to keep Keith grounded for so long, missing Lance—the thought of it makes his stomach churn and his chest tight and he can feel the heat building behind his eyes but he swallows it all down and tries to remember to breathe.

Eventually Lance’s sobs diminish, his breathing gradually slowing and shoulders stilling, but Keith has no intention of letting go anytime soon. Lance seems to appreciate the sentiment, because although his grip on Keith’s sweater loosens, his head stays tucked underneath his chin, resting against his chest. Keith still has one hand tangled in his hair, the other running carefully up and down the length of Lance’s back; if not to soothe him, then to assure himself that Lance is actually there.

His breath ruffles Lance’s hair slightly when he finally lets out a long, slow sigh, his own shoulders relaxing. Lance sniffs a little, voice still small when he speaks. “This feels familiar, huh?”

Keith’s hand stills on Lance’s back, and he opens his mouth to ask what he means when he makes the connection and his eyes fall closed in exasperation. Only Lance would try to crack a joke at a time like this. “Lance, that’s so not funny.”

He can hear the tiniest hint of a smile in Lance’s voice. “I mean. _I_ thought it was kind of funny—”

“Lance.”

Lance stops. “Just trying to lighten the mood,” he murmurs after a moment.

Keith would roll his eyes if he weren’t still so focused on the warmth of Lance’s body wrapped tightly in his arms. It’s quiet again for a while. Keith resumes moving his hand along Lance’s back. At some point he can feel Lance start to trace the lettering on his sweater with a light finger, the only evidence of his recent breakdown being his occasional sniffles.

“Sorry,” he says quietly.

Keith’s hand stills again and he opens his eyes enough to frown. “What in the world are you sorry for?”

Lance’s hand keeps tracing the lettering, the fabric tickling where it touches Keith’s skin. “I didn’t mean to spring this on you.”

“It’s not—” Keith lets out a puff of air. “You didn’t spring anything on me, Lance. Clearly you needed to talk about it.”

“I didn’t want to make it your problem.”

“I made it my problem when I made _you_ my problem.”

Lance huffs a small laugh into Keith’s neck, and then he shifts a little to pull away and Keith reluctantly lets go, a hand trailing down to rest on Lance’s knee as he sniffs again and wipes at what’s left of his tears. “Thanks, I think.” He takes a deep breath, steadier than it’s been almost all night, and lets it out. “I’m okay.” Keith must look unconvinced, because he offers a tiny smile and twists their fingers together to squeeze his hand, wiping one more time at his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

 _Not really,_ Keith wants to say. “Do you think—” he pauses. “You should try to get some sleep.”

Lance looks like he’s trying not to grimace. “I can try, I guess,” he mumbles. His eyes fall to where their hands rest on his knee, quiet again for a moment. “You don’t have to stay with me.”

“Okay,” Keith says. He doesn’t move. Lance looks up and blinks at him.

“Um—”

“You’re insane if you think I’m leaving,” Keith interrupts. Lance just stares at him and Keith tries not to grimace at himself. “I mean—unless, you want me to?”

“No,” Lance says quickly, tightening his grip on Keith’s hand. “I don’t mind.”

“Good, because I was gonna stay anyway.”

“Good.”

They stare at each other. And then the corners of Lance’s mouth twitch up and he lets out a small laugh and it’s impossible for Keith not to break out into a relieved smile of his own. “Okay. Um, you’re sure—”

“If you ask me if it’s okay I’ll push you off the bed,” Keith deadpans, already reaching to pull back the covers.

He makes Lance crawl under the sheets first, only following after he’s satisfied that Lance is settled. Lance watches with a hand tucked under his cheek as Keith slips into place next to him and pulls the sheets up to their shoulders, rolling over onto his side to face him.

Keith messes with the covers some more. “Comfortable?”

Lance nods, the faintest trace of a smile on his face. “Mhm.”

The room falls back into quiet. Keith tucks a hand under his cheek to mirror Lance, whose smile grows a little when he does. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the sword thing, by the way.”

Lance snorts. “Okay, well—”

“You can tell me about it tomorrow,” Keith cuts him off. “Go to sleep.”

“Okay.” Lance doesn’t close his eyes. Keith squints.

“Why are you still looking at me?”

“I dunno.” Lance shrugs, or imitates the best he can of a shrug while lying on his side in bed. “I just like looking at you.”

He giggles when Keith shuts his eyes and heaves an exhausted sigh. “Now is not the time for flirting, Lance.”

“I’m just—”

“Yeah, yeah, trying to lighten the mood. I get it.” His response comes out a little more irritable than he means for it to, if the way Lance’s brow creases is anything to go by. He sighs again, dropping his gaze. “Sorry. Just—” His eyes follow a thread stitched into the covers, and then he finds himself echoing the advice that Adam had given him just a few days ago. “—stop trying so hard to invalidate your feelings. You don’t have to try so hard to make sure everyone else is happy at your own expense. You’re allowed to feel scared and upset sometimes, you know? Let yourself feel what you need to feel. Don’t worry about anyone else.” When he looks back up, his heart jumps a little to see Lance still staring right back at him. He swallows. “Okay?”

Lance doesn’t answer for a long moment, chewing on his lip absently before he seems to resign. “Okay,” he answers quietly.

“Okay,” Keith repeats, satisfied.

He doesn’t remember either of them moving, but they seem closer now; Keith can feel the warmth from Lance’s body and just barely make out the color of his eyes in the dark and if he listens hard enough, he can hear the faint sound of his heart beating in his chest. And suddenly Keith’s own is leaping back into his throat when he thinks about everything Lance told him hardly minutes ago, and he has to resist the urge to reach out and touch him.

The same urge, apparently, that has Lance reaching out to brush a loose strand of hair out of his face and tuck it behind his ear, gently settling his hand there on his scar. He hums softly. “Felt like doing that.” Keith tries to smile, but he thinks it probably only goes halfway because Lance frowns slightly. “You’re doing it again.” Keith shakes his head, and Lance presses his mouth into a thin line. “Keith.”

Keith opens his mouth. Closes it. Lance’s frown deepens and Keith lets out defeated breath, looking down as he reaches up to curl his fingers around Lance’s wrist. “I should’ve been there,” he mumbles.

“Nope,” Lance says immediately, and Keith blinks as he pulls his hand away and plants it on his chest. “No, absolutely not. Not allowed. This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“Wh—” Keith starts, offended, but Lance cuts him off.

“Keith, there is _literally_ nothing you could have done.”

“But—”

“You’re not allowed to blame yourself for something that happened to me because of my own choices, alright?” Lance says firmly. “End of discussion.” The look he gives Keith when he opens his mouth makes him close it again just as quickly, however reluctantly. His hand seems to relax on Keith’s chest after another brief moment of silence, and his voice softens. “All of what you’re doing right now is enough. I promise.”

Keith bites the inside of his lip. “I just—I want you to feel like you can talk to me about… things. Whatever. About anything you need.”

“I do feel that way,” Lance assures him. “But you can’t take everything and twist it so you’re somehow at fault. I don’t need you trying to fix my problems, I just need you to be here.” He pauses. “Okay?” he adds lightly, echoing the earlier sentiment.

Keith exhales, looking down at where his hand rests on Lance’s wrist. “Okay.” He glances back up. “No more secrets.”

Lance smiles, gentle and soft and beautiful and it makes Keith’s heart ache. “No more secrets,” he murmurs.

They lay there for one more quiet moment before Lance finally seems to show some signs of exhaustion, stifling a yawn and rubbing his eyes with his free hand.

“Okay. I think I’m actually ready to try to sleep now.”

Keith tries to ignore the pang of selfish disappointment when he has to let go of Lance again. “Yeah.”

“I am kind of cold though.”

Keith perks up a little. “I can go get some blankets.” Lance blinks at him. Keith blinks back. “Oh.” The corners of Lance’s mouth turn up as Keith’s face flushes a little. “Oh, you mean—”

“Yeah,” Lance says, but Keith is already moving closer and pulling Lance back into his chest, wrapping his arms around his shoulders as carefully as he can. Lance shifts on his side to make himself comfortable, tentatively resting a hand on Keith’s stomach.

“How about now?” Keith asks.

“Warm,” is all Lance says, the hint of a smile finding its way back into his voice. A beat of silence. “Thanks.”

Keith smooths out a piece of Lance’s hair. He’s pretty sure the ‘thanks’ applies to more than acting as Lance’s personal space heater. “Just—wake me up. If you need to.”

“I will.” Another short pause. “G’night.”

“Night, Lance.”

Keith thinks that Lance falls asleep soon after that. He can tell by the way he can hear Lance’s breathing even out, and how the rise and fall of his body slows, and the feeling of his fingers curling just so in the fabric of his sweater. Even after he’s sure Lance must be asleep, he keeps running his fingers through his hair and rubbing small, light circles across his back, until he’s focused entirely on the sound of Lance’s soft breathing and the feeling of his hair tickling his neck and his pulse beating under his skin, and he stops to give it all his full attention.

_I died._

He stares across the room and out the dark of the window, Lance’s small, terrified whisper echoing again and again in his mind. _I still remember everything—_ Keith closes his eyes.

Lance died.

(Lance, with eyes like the ocean and skin like copper and hair soft as silk and a smile that’s like clouds disappearing on a warm, sunny day—)

(Lance, with the pretty blue eyes and the sun-kissed skin and the wind-swept hair and the crooked smile and the freckles that Keith would trace into constellations if he could—)

Keith tucks Lance closer and lets out a shaky breath, burying his face in Lance’s hair.

“I love you,” he whispers.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> exhibit a of how they should've handled.... a lot of things in canon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> perhaps.... i snapped
> 
> many many things are addressed in this chapter. eat up kids  
> (((i do feel like the pacing is kind of rushed, but it's already longer than i originally planned and there's just a lot so)))
> 
> also! [cadetcatra](https://www.cadetcatra.tumblr.com) on tumblr made [this](https://open.spotify.com/user/ciaobrielle/playlist/1uzZrcWkDWlaOTbLIsdxoq?si=DeJGKYvzQzuTOuQ4lt3uRQ) awesome playlist based on klancemas! ♡

Keith is the first to wake up.

Which is just as well, because Lance has no business being awake for the rest of the day if Keith has anything to say about it. In fact, if Keith had his way, Lance would sleep the entire day away to make up for some of the sleep he’s lost. Keith is pretty sure he deserves a day off from—and he hates to put it this way, but—well, life in general.

Honestly, Keith wouldn’t mind catching a break either.

He’s a little confused at first, when he wakes up. For a brief second, he’s convinced that the weight pressed against his chest is Kosmo, which is weird because Kosmo normally likes to curl up against his back. But his brain slowly seems to realize that doesn’t make sense, because Kosmo isn’t here and whatever’s tickling the underside of his chin isn’t thick enough to be his fur anyway. He’s not particularly aware of the way he’s hugging said weight to his chest either, until he cracks his eyes open and squints against the sunlight trickling through the window and discovers that this is definitely not his room, and then he finally remembers last night.

Meaning, the aforementioned weight is Lance, and whatever’s tickling his chin is Lance’s hair, and it’s his hand clinging slightly to his sweatshirt and his body heat that’s making Keith want to close his eyes again and go straight back to sleep. He inhales through his nose, deep and slow, and breathes out quietly. And then because he can, and maybe because he just woke up and he’s still groggy and a little disoriented and most of his awareness is generally inhibited, he drops his head to press a soft kiss into Lance’s hair, careful not to wake him.

Lance is curled up into his chest, hair ruffled against the pillows and breath tickling Keith’s neck with every soft exhale. Keith listens to him breathe for a moment, absently dragging his fingers through his hair and brushing it from his forehead, his thoughts already drifting toward last night’s conversation.

Part of him would like to think he imagined it all. His throat still feels tight every time he remembers Lance’s choked up voice and tired nods and forced whispers. Having him wrapped up like this only does so much to quell the way it makes his stomach twist uncomfortably.

He glances down at where his fingers are tangled in Lance’s hair. Listens for his heartbeat. Breathes out again when he hears it, strong and steady, mixed with his own.

How long ago had it happened? Lance said he had been gone when it did, still working with the Blade; maybe he’d been on a mission, or maybe he was already in the Quantum Abyss with Krolia. Either way, that was so, so long ago. Lance has been carrying this around for so long, why didn’t he say anything sooner—

He blinks at the wall. Why didn’t Lance tell him—why didn’t _anyone_ tell him? He swears under his breath. The rest of the team was there, everyone else must know, so why in the world—why in the entire godforsaken _universe_ had nobody told him? He swears again, louder, and then quickly glances down again to make sure he didn’t just accidentally wake Lance, who makes no indication of having heard.

“I can’t believe this,” he mutters. “I can’t _believe—”_ He clenches his jaw and shuts his eyes as a sudden wave of anger surges through his chest, because why in the _world—_

He takes a deep breath. Swallows it down. Whatever. Lance is his primary focus right now. He can be pissed later.

It takes some careful maneuvering for Keith to untangle himself from Lance and climb out of bed, but he manages not to wake him up. He stares at him for a moment longer before stepping toward the door and quietly slipping into the hallway. Maybe Lance would appreciate eating breakfast in his room today, instead of having to wake up and immediately come downstairs and plaster a big, fake (convincing, apparently, considering that it seems to have had Keith fooled for so long) smile on his face for once. Also, maybe Keith just wants to keep Lance to himself for a little longer.

Everyone else is already fixing their own breakfast when he comes downstairs, scattered around the table with cereal and juice and the occasional granola bar. Adam is at the counter, waiting for his coffee to finish brewing with his arms folded and an amused smile on his face as Pidge steals several marshmallows from Shiro’s bowl of Lucky Charms when he’s not looking. He’s busy trying to solve the puzzle on the back of the cereal box with Allura and Hunk.

Adam notices him first, and his eyebrows lift almost imperceptibly, but he manages to keep a neutral expression. “Good morning, Keith.”

Keith would’ve forgotten that everyone probably thinks he and Lance are still in a fight if it weren’t for the fact that everyone immediately looks up from the table, the room practically going silent. He doesn’t bother looking back. “Good morning,” he says evenly, and then sweeps past them into the kitchen.

He can feel everyone watching him as he searches through the pantry and grabs a package of Strawberry Pop-Tarts for Lance, and a granola bar for himself. He pauses, and then grabs an extra package, just in case. Adam leans back against the counter as he walks past again and opens the fridge. He takes a glance at the contents and turns to Adam. “Where’s the orange juice without the pulp?”

Adam just looks at him for a moment. Keith can practically hear everyone at the table exchanging glances with one another, perfectly aware that pulpless orange juice is a dead giveaway that it’s not for him. Then Adam moves a few things around in the fridge to pull the unopened carton of juice from the back and handing it to Keith, who takes it gratefully. “Thanks.”

He resolutely continues to ignore the feeling of everyone still watching him as he goes on to pour a glass, putting it back into the fridge when he’s done. Which is also when Shiro decides to try to press his luck.

“Did you sleep well last night, Keith?” he asks, in the annoyingly polite way he does when he’s trying to discreetly check if he’s alright without forcing him to talk about anything he doesn't want to.

Keith looks over at him. Everyone’s eyes are on him as they wait for a response, and maybe Keith should feel awkward or embarrassed, but honestly? It makes the same wave of anger from earlier slam into him again, because seriously, his boyfriend _died_ (and fine, okay, maybe they weren’t together in space or whatever but everyone has made it perfectly clear that they knew from the start they had feelings for each other), and _none_ of them thought to tell him about it. So excuse him if he doesn’t feel like dignifying Shiro with a response.

Maybe he’s being petty. He briefly considers this. No, no he is not.

He turns to Adam, who’s looking at him curiously from his place at the counter. “Adam, will you tell Shiro that I’m not talking to him right now?”

Adam’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise and Shiro makes an affronted noise behind them.

“What?”

Adam already looks far too entertained with the entire ordeal. “I don’t think he’s talking to you right now, Takashi.”

“What did I do?” he asks, sounding offended.

“Ooo, more family drama,” Hunk whispers to Pidge, who’s watching the exchange with squinty eyes. Allura looks just as bewildered, looking between Shiro and Keith as if she’s solving another puzzle.

Keith clears his throat. “Actually, will you tell everyone here that I’m not talking to them right now?”

Hunk drops his spoon. Pidge tiredly rubs her eyes underneath her glasses, and Allura blinks.

“Keith says he’s not talking to any of you right now,” Adam announces loyally. Keith thinks he loves him.

Everyone watches in utter confusion as he gathers his things back into his hands and stalks through the living room to the stairs. He pauses on the first step, considering. Allura did save Lance. So fine, she gets a pass. He turns to look over the wooden railing. “Actually, I take it back. Everyone but Allura. Adam and Allura are the only people down here that I’m talking to today.”

“Thank you?” Allura says questioningly, Adam looking pleased.

Shiro squawks a little. “Keith—”

“Bye,” Keith interrupts, starting up the stairs. “To Adam and Allura,” he adds, and then rather dramatically makes his departure, smiling in satisfaction as he walks back down the hall. He stops by his own room first to grab his handheld, and then crosses over to Lance’s.

Lance is awake when he slips back inside, sitting up in bed with his arms stretched over his head. His hair is somehow five times more messy than it was when Keith left only a few minutes ago, but he can’t really complain. It’s cute, and Keith is weak.

“Oh, g’morning,” Lance says sleepily, speech still a little slurred as he drops one arm to rub his eyes. “I thought you left.”

“Just for breakfast,” Keith answers, kicking the door closed behind him and coming back over to sit on the bed, careful not to spill the glass of orange juice. “I thought you might want to stay in here for a little longer.”

“Wow, bringing me breakfast in bed?” Lance grins, graciously accepting the Pop-Tarts he’s offered (as graciously as one can when accepting a wrinkly silver package of cheap breakfast pastries). “How romantic.”

Keith flushes a little, although he can’t help but smile back, feeling relieved that Lance seems to be in a good mood. He taps his fingers on the side of the glass and watches as Lance tears into the package. “So… did you sleep okay last night?”

Lance glances up through his lashes, gives a tiny smile, and looks back down, breaking off a corner of one of the Pop-Tarts and turning it over in his hand. “Yeah. Better than I have in a while, actually.”

“Okay,” Keith nods. He taps the glass some more. “Good.” Lance eats the corner of his Pop-Tart, chewing slowly.

“What about you?”

“Fine.”

Lance takes another slow, deliberate bite, looking thoughtful. He swallows. “Keith,” he starts.

“Hm?”

“Watcha doin?”

Keith realizes he’s staring. “Oh. I’m just—nothing.” He ducks his head and focuses on balancing the glass between his legs so he can break into his granola bar, but he can still feel Lance’s eyes on him.

Lance lowers his Pop-Tart. “Keith.”

“It’s fine,” Keith says, even though no one asked and it really doesn’t make any sense given the context.

He wrestles open his granola bar and stares at it. Lance doesn’t say anything for a moment, and then shifts a little to better face him. “Keith,” he tries one more time, softer. Keith hesitantly glances up at him, and Lance bites his lip. “I’m still me, you know,” he murmurs. “You don’t have to start acting any different.”

“I know that,” Keith says defensively. Lance blinks at him and he grimaces, hunching his shoulders a little. “Sorry. I know, I just—” He sighs. “You’re right. Sorry.”

Lance offers him a small, reassuring smile that Keith more or less returns before Lance peeks down hopefully at the glass tucked between his knees. “So, are you gonna drink that?”

“Nope,” Keith shakes his head, holding it out. “No pulp in it. Disgusting.”

Lance squints at him as he takes the glass. “Pulp. Pulp is disgusting, Keith.”

“Says the person who has Pulp Fiction on their list of top ten favorite movies.”

“That’s not the same!”

Keith just takes a bite of his granola bar. Lance eventually finishes his package of Pop-Tarts, and Keith rolls his eyes when he takes a cautious first sip of juice to make sure it is indeed pulpless, proceeding to down the entire glass in almost one gulp. And then he tries to hide his smile when Lance starts eyeing the second package of Pop-Tarts, and his eyes light up when Keith passes it over to him.

“Is everyone else awake?” he asks, smiling in satisfaction at the sound of the package tearing.

Keith shrugs. “Yeah. Downstairs.”

“Do they all still think we’re mad at each other?”

Keith tries not to scowl. “I really don’t care what they think right now.”

Lance raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth to respond, but then Keith’s handheld buzzes and they both glance down at it. Keith picks it up and frowns at the screen.

 

 **Adam W:** i tried to stop him

 

Keith makes a face. “What?” he mutters.

And no sooner has he even read the text than suddenly there are footsteps in the hallway and the door is swinging open with no warning to reveal an unhappy Shiro. Keith throws his hands in the air and scowls as Lance blinks in surprise. “Hi?”

“Oh my god,” Keith mutters.

Shiro takes a moment to glance between the two of them. “I assume this means that everything’s been worked out?”

Lance’s face flushes pink while Keith crosses his arms and glares at the floor. “Oh. Yeah, we uh—yes. We’re good.”

“Glad to hear it.”

No one says anything. Keith keeps glaring at the floor. “Um,” Lance says, sounding confused.

“Keith,” Shiro tries.

Keith folds his legs and shifts around in his place on the bed until his back is to Shiro. Lance shoots him a puzzled look. “I’m not talking to him,” Keith explains.

“Huh?”

“Or anyone.”

“Keith,” Shiro repeats, exasperated.

“Except Allura,” Keith says, and then stuffs the rest of his granola bar into his mouth as Lance stares at him in bewilderment.

Shiro pouts. “Lance, tell him he’s hurting my feelings.”

“Tell Shiro he’s being a baby,” Keith mutters, and Shiro huffs in annoyance.

Lance blinks again, looking a bit torn. He glances back at Shiro. “Uh, Keith says—”

“I heard what Keith said,” Shiro sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Why isn’t he talking to you?”

“That’s a great question, Lance. Why don’t you ask him?”

Lance obediently turns to Keith. “Why aren’t you talking to Shiro?” Keith crosses his arms tighter and glares down at the sheets, and realization slowly dawns on Lance’s face. “Oh,” he squeaks. He glances at Shiro and back at Keith. “Oh—”

“What?” Shiro presses.

“It’s nothing—” Lance says quickly, but Keith has already had enough.

He whips back around. “When were you planning on telling me?”

Shiro stares at him. “Telling you what?”

“Keith—” Lance starts.

“Don’t play dumb,” Keith snaps, and Shiro frowns.

“Keith, I legitimately don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Keith’s mouth drops open. “Are you _serious_ right now—”

“Keith,” Lance says again, putting a hand on his arm. “He wasn’t even technically there, he doesn’t know—”

“No,” Keith interrupts, jerking his arm away and standing abruptly. “No, I _know_ that he knows. He still has all of his memories from when Allura restored his body, he remembers our fight, he remembers _this—”_ He only feels a little guilty for the way that Shiro flinches slightly when he points at the scar on his cheek, voice rising steadily. “—so I _know_ that he knows. So why didn’t you tell me?”

He’s speaking loudly enough that probably everyone in the cabin can hear the commotion, because Adam appears behind Shiro in the doorway with his brows pulled together in concern, probably ready to step in if necessary.

“Tell you _what?”_ Shiro demands.

“Unbelievable—”

Lance reaches out and pulls on Keith’s sweater sleeve, eyes wide. “Keith, wait—”

“Why didn’t you tell me that Lance died?” Keith finally bursts.

The room falls silent. The tugging on Keith’s sleeve ceases, and he realizes that his fists are clenched at his sides and he’s suddenly breathing harder than usual as if he’s just run up a few flights of stairs. Shiro has gone still, his face blank while Adam stands quietly behind him, watching intently despite probably having no idea what’s going on right now.

“What are you…” Shiro shakes his head slightly. “Keith, what are you talking about?”

Lance mutters something. Keith turns to see him still sitting on the bed, elbows propped on his knees and holding his face in his hands. “What?”

“He doesn’t know,” Lance mumbles again.

Keith stares at him, still trying to catch his breath. He exhales. “What?” he repeats.

Lance peeks through his hands to look at the floor. “No one knows except for Allura.”  

Keith opens his mouth. Closes it. “Oh,” he says weakly. Shiro’s gaze has turned questioningly to Lance when Keith glances back at him. He swears under his breath.

“Lance?” Shiro says softly.

Lance just closes his eyes and breathes out into his hands. Adam’s eyes flick between Lance and Keith, Keith and Shiro, and then he gently touches Shiro’s shoulder. “I’ll tell everyone to come to the living room,” he says slowly.

He looks over at Keith one more time before disappearing from the doorway. Shiro doesn’t move, still watching Lance as he waits for some kind of explanation. Keith swears under his breath again. “Lance, I—I’m sorry, I thought—”

His mouth snaps shut as Lance drops his hands to his sides and stands from the bed, closing his eyes with a small sigh. “It’s fine,” he mumbles, sounding resigned. “I guess everyone was going to find out sooner or later.”

The three of them stand there for another moment in silence. Shiro opens his mouth like he wants to say something, then seems to think better of it. He flexes his fingers. “Living room,” he says eventually, although the way he does is careful, and anything but commanding. He shoots one more apprehensive look in Keith’s direction, and then reluctantly turns away to follow Adam.

Lance has the sleeves of Keith’s hoodie pulled over his hands, chewing on his lip as he looks at the ground. Keith’s mouth feels dry. “I’m sorry,” he says again, voice going quiet. “I just assumed—I thought everyone knew.”

“I know, Keith. It’s okay.” Lance rubs his eyes tiredly. “I just—wasn’t expecting to have to make a public announcement about it all of a sudden. Might as well get it over with, anyway. It’s not a big deal.”

Keith wishes he could throw something at himself. This is so bad, because it _is_ a big deal and this isn’t something that Lance should be forced to talk about when he’s not ready, he trusted Keith enough to tell him last night and then he had to go and make such a big scene about it, and now he’ll have to go through the explanation of it all again because Keith couldn’t keep his mouth shut and Lance is probably really actually mad at him now—

And then suddenly Lance’s hand is slipping into his and tugging him along toward the door, holding on tightly.

So maybe he’s not mad.

Either way, Keith keeps silent as Lance leads him into the hallway, not wanting to say anything to jinx himself. As promised, Adam has gathered the others into the living room, where Pidge and Hunk are seated on one of the couches and looking confused more than anything. Adam is in one of the armchairs, brow creased as he listens to whatever Shiro is murmuring to him quietly from where he’s perched on the chair’s edge. Allura is on the couch across from everyone else, and from the look on her face, Keith is pretty sure she’s already figured out exactly what’s going on; from something that Shiro or Adam said, or from what Keith was shouting about upstairs, maybe both.

Keith holds Lance back when they reach the bottom step and lowers his voice.

“You know you don’t have to do this.”

Lance doesn’t respond at first, fidgeting a bit in place while he looks over at where everyone is huddled in the living room. “I think I need to.”

Keith studies him for another moment, his stomach still flipping guiltily, considering that he’s the reason all this is happening in the first place. “Okay,” he says quietly.

He reluctantly lets Lance’s hand slip out of his and follows close behind as they start into the living room. Everyone looks up as they enter and Keith resolutely stares at the floor to avoid making eye contact with anyone. Allura’s eyes flicker between the two of them and linger on Lance, who offers a small smile and carefully sits down next to her while Keith hovers by the side a little longer before sitting on the edge.

Pidge quickly breaks the silence, sounding impatient but also a bit uneasy, like she knows this is serious. “So, is someone going to tell us what’s going on? Because I’m pretty sure Adam didn’t call an emergency meeting for another movie night.”

Shiro and Adam both glance expectantly at Keith, who crosses his arms over his chest and looks down at his feet. “Keith?” Shiro prompts cautiously.

Keith tries not to twitch.

“I’m pretty sure he was serious about not talking to us,” Hunk notes after a moment, sounding a bit hurt.

“I would ask why,” Pidge says dryly, “only, he’s not talking to us.”

Lance breathes out heavily, turning everyone’s attention to him. “We’re all here because of me. Not Keith.”

Hunk glances between the two of them. “Then does this mean you guys are good now, or—”

“Lance and I are _fine,”_ Keith snaps, irritated.

Pidge cups her chin in her hand, unfazed. “Oh, so you are talking to us now.”

“Guys,” Shiro pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, just before Keith gets the chance to make a retort. “You can argue about this later.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “You were the one—”

“How about we listen to what Lance has to say?” Adam suggests calmly.

Keith’s mouth clamps shut and he glances down at Lance beside him, who’s fiddling anxiously with the strings of his hoodie. It’s quiet for a moment as everyone sits and waits, watching Lance questioningly until he finally clears his throat and takes a deep breath. “So there’s, um—there’s something I should probably tell you guys.”

“That’s pretty vague,” Pidge says warily.

Keith knows he’s being snappy, knows he’s been snappy all morning but he can’t help it. “Well maybe if you would let him finish—”

“Keith,” Adam interrupts again, shooting him a warning look. He reluctantly backs down, but he’s pretty sure he got the message across because Pidge shrinks a little, glancing apologetically at Lance.

Lance clears his throat again, fixing his eyes on a spot on the floor and curling his hands into fists on his knees. Keith’s palm itches with the need to reach out and touch him. He can tell that Lance is struggling with his words, trying to decide how direct to be. It hadn’t exactly been easy for him last night, either. He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“I died.”

Oh. So maybe he’s not struggling with his words at all. That’s certainly direct enough. That’s definitely—yeah, that’s one way to do it.

Everyone stares at him. Allura looks a bit startled by his bluntness, but other than that the overall response is rather anticlimactic, everyone’s expressions ranging from shock to disbelief. Which—it’s not like any of them have much experience reacting to someone, who is very clearly physically alive and well, tell them that they died, so—Keith can’t exactly blame them. Even Shiro, who kind of sort of knew what this is about (thanks to Keith), still looks caught completely off guard now that he’s heard the words out of Lance’s mouth.

It’s silent as everyone seems to process the information. Keith kind of wants to scream. Or yell, or punch a wall—or better yet, wrap Lance up and carry him back upstairs where he doesn’t have to think or talk about any of this ever again. He has to take his own slow, deep breath to keep himself even just from hearing the words again.

Pidge seems to be the first to recover, her hands balling up into fists in her lap and gaze hardening behind her glasses until she almost looks angry. “This better not be some kind of sick joke, because if it is, it’s not funny.”

Keith bristles, ready to retort, but Allura places a gentle hand on Lance’s shoulder and sighs. “I’m afraid this is serious.”  

Shiro starts to shake his head slowly, face etched with concern. “I don’t understand,” he murmurs, almost like he’s speaking more to himself than to anyone else. “Lance, what do you mean?”

Keith clenches his jaw and wills himself not to snap again. Lance just said that he died; two words, _I died,_ how much more straightforward does it need to be, how hard could it possibly be to understand, literally what does Shiro think it means—then again, Keith had the same reaction.

Lance still hasn’t looked up from the floor, shifting uncomfortably from all the attention. When he makes no sign of responding, Allura moves to rest her hand over one of Lance’s closed fists, and when he glances over at her they seem to have a silent conversation of their own. Eventually Lance’s shoulders seem to slump slightly in resignation, and Allura squeezes his hand encouragingly as he breathes out quietly.

“It happened when we were sent to fix the radiation plates for that Galra labor planet that Sendak attacked,” he starts, voice still small but at least a bit steadier than it had been last night. Keith finds himself turning toward him almost protectively, as if he might scoop him up and carry him away at the first sign of a breakdown. Maybe he will. Lance takes another small breath. “Allura and I—we melded some of them together with our Lions. And there was—” His voice wobbles, but he closes his eyes and manages to keep it stable and Keith barely resists the urge to reach out for him. “There was a pretty bad blast from one of them, when the power shorted out.”

Shiro grimaces a little and Pidge shoots him a sympathetic look. Keith might have noticed if he weren’t so completely focused on Lance, who looks like he’s fighting now to keep his composure.

Allura glances at him again when he doesn’t continue, her brows knitted together. She sighs, her gaze falling to the floor. “He pushed me out of the way,” she says softly.

Keith can see the realization dawning on everyone’s faces. It’s slow—like they’re putting the pieces of a puzzle together, until suddenly the big picture becomes clear and there’s no way around what it means, like it or not. Because putting himself in harm’s way to protect someone else isn’t exactly out of character for Lance, so there’s no surprise there, but this time is different because this time—this time it went terribly, horribly wrong. The risk, the danger, the possibility of it has always been there, but to imagine that the unimaginable actually happened?

No one seems willing to say it out loud.

“So it hit you instead,” Hunk says eventually, eyes round and scared. “And it—but then—”

“I had procured enough knowledge of Altean alchemy by then that I was able to revive him,” Allura explains patiently, looking at Lance as she does when he tenses slightly as if reliving the memory.

“But why didn’t you—why didn’t either of you tell us?” Pidge demands, voice sounding frustrated and terrified all at once.

“Because—” Everyone’s attention snaps back to Lance when he speaks, but his voice wavers and then suddenly he’s crying, reaching up to wipe at the tears that have started to slip down his cheeks, and everything comes spilling out at once. “Because so much was going on and there was no time to slow down and I—I was scared and I didn’t want to be a burden on anyone so I asked Allura not to say anything, and then all the stuff with Lotor and Sendak happened and I didn’t know what to do—”

“Lance,” Keith cuts him off, slipping from the edge of the couch to kneel in front of Lance, all while reaching for his hand and using the other to wipe some of the tears from his face. “Hey, you’re okay. We’re all right here, it’s okay.”

Lance clings to his hand and wipes the other side of his face with his sleeve, taking a shaky breath while Allura starts to rub his back soothingly. “There was just—never a good time to bring it up.”

“Dude.” Hunk’s eyes are glistening with tears when Keith turns a little from his place on the floor to look at him. “There doesn’t have to be a good time for something like that. And you wouldn’t have been a burden on anyone, you’re more important to us than anything else we were doing up there.”

“I’m sure it’s not easy to talk about,” Shiro murmurs sympathetically. Keith glances over at Adam, who looks a bit overwhelmed but every bit as concerned as the others, and much too distracted to wonder why Shiro said that as if he has personal experience.

Lance blinks away a few more tears and sniffs, giving a meager nod of his head as confirmation. “I didn’t want add to everyone’s list of things to worry about.”

Pidge stands a bit abruptly, startling everyone in the room. “You’re so—” Her voice trembles and she shakes her head. “You’re so—” And then she darts across the space between them and Keith lets go of Lance just in time for her to throw her arms around him.

Lance is only kept from being propelled backward into the couch by Allura’s hand on his back, looking a bit startled; but then Pidge tightens her hold, and Keith’s heart aches when more tears start to well in Lance’s eyes and he buries his face in her hair as he wraps his arms around her in return.

“You’re so dumb,” she mumbles into his chest. “You don’t get to decide that for us. You’re always gonna be at the top of the list whether you wanna be or not.”

“Rude,” Lance mutters, earning the smallest little laugh from Pidge. Her cheeks are damp when she pulls away, but she smiles up at him and Lance smiles back, even as he’s wiping at his face again. He lifts his other hand to give her a tiny fist bump. “Thanks, Pigeon.”

She sniffles a little, rubbing at the wet streaks underneath her glasses and smiling gratefully at Allura when she moves over to make room. Pidge slips into place between them and curls up against Lance’s side while Keith stands, dropping back onto the edge of the couch.

Hunk still looks pained, his own tears threatening to spill at any moment. “Lance, dude, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know and I wasn’t there for you and I’m a terrible best friend—”

“Hunk, buddy,” Lance manages to laugh a little. “Breathe, man. You’re the _best_ best friend, nothing’ll ever change that.”

Hunk makes a sort of whimpering noise of appreciation, and then Shiro smacks his hands on his knees and sighs as he stands. “Alright. I think it’s time for a group hug.”

There are a lot of sniffles and some shaky laughter as everyone climbs to their feet, Lance taking Keith’s outstretched hand and letting himself be pulled into the center of the fray, where everyone wraps him up in a safe, warm bundle of limbs, pressing tightly together. Lance peeks over Shiro’s shoulder at where Adam is still watching from the armchair with a fond smile on his face.

“You’re part of the team now too, you know.”

Adam huffs a laugh, shaking his head, but he obediently stands and adds himself to the pile. Keith can’t really breathe where he’s squished between Lance and Hunk, but he can’t quite bring himself to mind all that much, especially when that means that he can feel Lance’s heart beating where his hand is pressed to his chest.

He’s almost disappointed when everyone finally starts to pull away. Lance lets out a big breath, drying the last of the tears from his face. “Thanks, guys. I’m sorry I never said anything sooner.”

“Stop apologizing for dumb things,” Keith mutters, and Pidge snorts when Lance gives him a sheepish look.

Adam flops back into the armchair with a sigh. “I’m going to be honest. You guys stress me out.”

“Sorry—” Lance starts, before he’s interrupted by both Keith and Pidge.

“Lance!”

Lance blinks. “Oh no. I’ve turned into Keith.”

Keith scoffs and Lance starts giggling as he lightly shoves him back onto the couch, but he can’t keep himself from smiling as he plops back onto its edge. “Whatever, Lance.”

“I guess I’m still confused why you weren’t talking to any of us earlier,” Hunk notes, sinking back onto the other couch with Pidge.

Keith winces, shooting a particularly guilty look in Shiro’s direction. “Uh, yeah. Sorry. I thought—he told me last night and I assumed everyone else knew and just—didn’t tell me.”

“Apology accepted,” Shiro hums, and Keith rolls his eyes.

“So basically, now I’m talking to everyone except for Allura.”

Allura makes a noise of protest. “Lance told me not to tell anyone!”

Keith folds his arms. “Okay, _fine._ Then I’m talking to everyone except for Lance.”

“Hey!”

“That seems a bit petty,” Shiro teases.

“Yeah, well, I learned from the best.”

Shiro squawks in indignation, but Adam pats his arm assuringly. “It’s okay, he’s talking about me. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Lance tugs on Keith’s arm. “Keith, you can’t _not_ talk to me. Communication is key in a relationship!”

“Have I mentioned lately that I’m really good at ignoring people?” Keith asks no one in particular, and Lance pouts as Hunk stifles a laugh.

“I literally died,” Lance grumbles, crossing his own arms and slumping back on the couch.

“Same,” Shiro sighs, only realizing his mistake once the word is out of his mouth and it’s too late. He freezes, eyes widening as Keith’s head snaps toward him, gaze immediately flicking over to Adam.

And Adam—is oblivious.

He just swats at Shiro’s shoulder, completely unaware of the apprehensive silence that’s just settled over the room. “Quiet, Takashi, this isn’t about you.” He turns his attention back to Lance, who blinks incredulously. Keith glances back at Shiro. Shiro gives the slightest shake of his head, looking a bit distressed. And then Adam apparently seems to finally process what Shiro said, because his eyes widen and he whips back around to look at him. “Wait, _what—”_

“Oh dear,” Allura mutters under her breath.

“Alright, now hold on,” Shiro starts, holding his hands out placatingly, which—only serves to make things worse.

“Takashi!” Adam squeaks, his voice pitched a few octaves higher than normal.

“Adam,” Keith tries. “Don’t freak out—”

“You!” Adam points at him, and Keith grimaces. “You—hypocrite! And _you—”_ he points back at Shiro, who looks trapped halfway between terror and acceptance. “What do you—what do you mean _‘same’?”_

And Hunk—Hunk of all people, probably because Adam is panicking and that makes him panic because Hunk has too much empathy in his body for him to know what to do with—blurts, “That’s technically not even his real body.”

Adam just about leaps out of the chair. _“What?”_

“Oh boy,” Lance says, looking very much like he might try to disappear into the couch cushions.

“Adam,” Shiro starts. “Honey, sweetheart, love of my life—”

“Stop that!” Adam squawks, leaning away and holding his hands to his chest protectively, the way he does when Shiro has just done something traitorous. “You can’t just—Takashi—”

“I promise I can explain but now isn’t the best time—”

“When is there ever a best time!”

Allura leans over Lance as Shiro keeps trying (rather unsuccessfully) to console Adam. “Maybe we should leave them for a while.”

Keith shrugs. “I would agree, only if we leave Shiro alone with Adam then he _will_ die. And you won’t be able to bring him back this time.”

“Did I just break them up?” Hunk asks nervously. “Oh no. I panicked and now they’re gonna break up and it’s gonna be my fault—”

“They’re not gonna break up, Hunk,” Keith snorts, even as Adam can be heard squawking in the background.

He doesn’t realize until Lance glances over that Pidge has been oddly quiet all of a sudden, picking at the fabric of her sweats and chewing on her lip as she stares at the floor. “Pidge, you okay?”

Her eyes flick up, but she keeps her head down. “I’m fine.” Lance makes an unconvinced face at her and she looks back down, kicking at the ground a little. “I was just—thinking. On the topic of all this… stuff.” She shifts in place, looking a bit uncertain, and then she glances at Keith out of the corner of her eye. Keith frowns slightly as she bites her lip. “Keith, I think—you should tell them.”

Keith blinks at her, confused. “Tell them what?”

Pidge’s eyes return to the floor. “About—you know.”

Keith stares at her. “What are you—” And then it finally hits, just as Pidge opens her mouth to explain. “No,” he blurts, a little too loudly.

Loudly enough that it snaps Shiro and Adam out of their argument, because of course it does. Adam shoots Shiro a threatening _we’ll talk about this later_ look that Shiro couldn’t ignore even if he wanted to. “What’s happening now?”

“Nothing,” Keith says quickly, earning a few puzzled glances between Hunk, Lance, and Allura.

Pidge frowns. “You know you have to tell them eventually.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Keith insists, desperately trying to shove down the mix of guilt and panic in his voice.

Pidge lets out a huff. “Keith—”

“Pidge,” Keith grits out. “Drop it.”

She clamps her mouth shut, but she doesn’t look happy about it. Shiro’s brow furrows. “Keith,” he starts slowly. “What is she talking about?”

“I don’t know what she’s talking about.”

Pidge scoffs by way of protest. “You know _exactly_ what I’m talking about!”

“I didn’t even do anything—”

“ _Keith.”_ Pidge glares at him.

Keith crosses his arms over his chest defiantly, but at this point it’s his turn to have everyone’s attention on him. And that’s not even the worst part—the worst part is, he knows that Pidge is right. He was always going to have to come back to this eventually, was always going to have to come to terms with what he almost did and what almost happened. Maybe there’s a part of him that thought he could bury it in the past, that he could leave it there and never have to confront anyone, not even himself, about it.

Of course he was wrong.

“Keith,” Lance says softly, and Keith finds his gaze drawn toward him almost involuntarily, not unlike a moth drawn to a flame. He can feel Lance’s eyes searching. “You said no more secrets.”

Keith falters, letting out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. And of course, now his own words are being used against him.

Should’ve seen that coming.

He opens his mouth. Closes it as he lets out another small, defeated sigh and turns away to look back at the ground. “She’s talking about Naxzela,” he mumbles eventually.

There’s a moment of quiet as everyone seems to process. “Naxzela,” Lance repeats, like he doesn’t quite understand why a foreign planet they nearly died on at least a year ago is relevant.

“I thought you were still with the Blade when all of that went down,” Hunk adds.

Keith digs his fingers into his arms. “I was.”

He can still feel everyone’s eyes on him, but he doesn’t make any effort to offer any sort of further explanation. Pidge is the one who speaks again, after another moment. “He and my brother were the ones trying to break through the shield protecting the Galra cruiser.”

“Right, but—” Shiro shakes his head. “Lotor was the one who managed to destroy it.”

Pidge bites at her lip again, glancing up at Keith. “But no one knew that he was going to show up,” she says quietly.

“I still don’t understand what this has to do with anything,” Hunk admits.

“I still don’t understand literally anything that’s happening right now,” Adam mutters.

But Allura—Allura, because she’s way too smart for her own good, because she always seems to pick up on the implications of every little detail of every little thing—Allura’s already started to figure it out, judging by the look on her face. “None of your weapons were strong enough to penetrate the shield,” she murmurs.

“Yeah, yeah, and we wouldn’t have made it to the cruiser in time and everyone would have been space toast if Lotor hadn’t shown up,” Lance says, with very thinly veiled bitterness. “Thank you Lotor. Why are we talking about this?”

Pidge turns again to Keith in response, something almost pleading in her expression when he slowly, finally, drags his eyes up to meet her gaze—and he knows that there’s no way he’s leaving this room without having come clean. He crosses his arms tighter, drops his gaze to the ground, and steels himself.

“Because—” His eyes fall shut. Maybe because it makes the next part easier to say. Or maybe because he doesn’t want to see the reaction. “Because I was going to fly into the barrier.”

He thinks maybe he feels Lance stiffen on the couch beside him. But other than that, nothing. And he hates it. He’s so glad he doesn’t look up to see the looks on everyone’s faces, because the silence alone is just so— _awful,_ gives his words too much time to sink in, gives everyone too much time to think about what they mean, and he hates it because he already hates to think about it himself.

And suddenly it’s that much more real, no matter how badly he wishes it wasn’t.

“Dude,” Hunk says after a very long, very painful moment of silence, and his voice is quiet and breathy and Keith knows that if he looked up he would see tears in his eyes, and so he doesn’t. “You were going to sacrifice yourself for us?”  

Keith bites down on the inside of his lip. “You all would have done the same.”

“Keith,” Allura starts, sounding pained. “That’s—we never would have asked you to—”

“No one asked me to,” Keith snaps. “And no one forced me to make that choice, alright? It was the only way.”

“But—”

He’s not sure exactly where it comes from. Only that maybe, it’s because he’s had plenty of time to conjure up some kind of justification for it and no one to tell him he’s wrong. “Look, it was either me, or every single living being, every single living creature within the blast radius of the planet. It was either me or Voltron, and the universe needed Voltron, not me.” He lets out a small, frustrated sigh. “I had to put the mission before myself—”

“That’s such _bull_ shit,” Pidge interrupts, standing from her place so quickly that Keith isn’t sure she was ever even sitting down, and everyone seems so startled by her sudden outburst that Shiro doesn’t even try to scold her. “That’s such a lie and you know it—”

“What else was I supposed to do?” Keith says defensively. “It’s not like—”

“That doesn’t matter,” Pidge shoots back, her fists clenched at her sides. “Ever since you left to work with the Blade, you’ve been so caught up in that— _sick_ idea they push on all its members that you have to put the mission above all else—so what if the universe needed Voltron?” She’s struggling to keep her voice steady, angry tears glittering at the corners of her eyes. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe _we_ needed you?”

Keith stares at her in a bit of a stunned silence, almost completely unaware of everyone else sitting around them and watching all of this unfold. Because no, of course he didn’t stop to think—because they didn’t really—he didn’t exactly have time to weigh the pros and cons of his decision—

Pidge still isn’t done. “The Blade might have treated you like you were just another soldier meant to carry out missions and collect information, but to us you’re family, okay? So you can’t just do stuff like that, like you’re some expendable pawn in some sort of stupid game, like some kind of—you just— _can’t.”_

And then she storms out of the room and up the stairs, leaving Keith staring helplessly after her.

It was numb at first.

It’s been numb for a while, maybe since before it even happened. Maybe that’s what made the decision so easy, because he’s been numb to himself and to everyone for so long that he’s forgotten how he’s supposed to feel; but he’s at least self-aware enough to admit that he knows he’s terrified. Of imagining exactly what would have happened if Lotor hadn’t shown up, of everyone’s reactions when they returned to the Castle to find out that Keith would never be coming back, of never having had the chance to tell them just how important they are to him.

Because he’s always been the perfect example of the classic ‘actions speak louder than words’ kind of guy. Exhibit A: Naxzela. Maybe he didn’t have a home to come back to like the others, but like Pidge said—that doesn’t mean he didn’t have a family.

So now it’s just… painful.

He still hasn’t looked at anyone else. Someone says his name. He doesn’t stay long enough to figure out who, finding himself climbing up the stairs after Pidge before he even realizes he’s moving, and standing in front of her bedroom before he even knows what he plans to do.

The door is only half-closed, which he takes as a sign that going inside won’t get him punched or yelled at anymore than he already has. She’s sitting on the edge of her bed, when he pushes it the rest of the way open; knees tucked up and glasses tossed aside so she can wipe at her eyes, although now she has a pillow clutched in her arms as she glares at the floor.

Keith closes the door. He carefully sits down an arm’s length away and tucks his hands in his lap and studies the ground. She doesn’t quite acknowledge that he’s there, but she almost seems to deflate a little, using one hand to dry the remaining streak on her face. So they’re quiet, for a while. Keith isn’t sure what there is for him to say, anyway. An apology doesn’t feel like it would be enough, or even appropriate.

He taps his fingers against his knees and takes a slow, deep breath. “Pidge,” he starts tentatively, but then never gets the chance to continue.

“It really sucked when you left, you know.” Keith decides to keep his mouth shut at that. Pidge’s arms seem to tighten around her pillow as she sniffles a little. “I know I should be happy for you and stuff, because if you hadn’t left you wouldn’t have found your mom. So I am, but you were gone and it just—sucked.”

Keith chews on his lip as she sniffs again, eyes still on the ground. There’s nothing for him to argue at this point. All there is to do is listen.

“Lance was miserable,” Pidge says then, and Keith looks up at the tremor in her voice just in time to see the fresh tears springing into her eyes. “Everyone could tell. If we weren’t on a mission, or at a meeting, or recruiting people for the coalition, then he was on the training deck. And every time we disconnected after a debriefing with you and Kolivan he would stand there and just—stare at where you had been on the screen because he missed you so much—” Her voice wobbles and then the tears are falling, her breaths coming in little hiccups. “We all did, but he—missed you the most and I didn’t know what to do or say to make him feel better.”

She drops her head and presses her palms against her eyes. “All I did was tease him and make fun of him for really dumb things because that’s all I knew how to do and—because it made everything feel like it was normal but—” She exhales a shaky sob. “I was so mean to him, and he just let me and he laughed it off because he’s Lance, even after he literally died and I probably made everything so much worse.” Keith stares as she tries to wipe at the tears rolling down her cheeks. “He could’ve—he probably died thinking I hate him or something because I was so awful to him, just because we were stuck in space and I was scared and I took it out on him.”

“Pidge,” Keith tries again, and this time she breaks down and ducks her head to cry into the pillow, and Keith closes the space between them to curl an arm around her shoulders.

She cries for a long time. Keith isn’t sure when, but at some point she finally gives in and leans against him, her shoulders shaking slightly with every quiet, muffled sob. And even though she can’t speak anymore, he thinks he understands now. He always has, just not in a way he could actually acknowledge—like he’s finally discovering the cause of some deeply rooted instinct that’s been driving him for so long.

Keith only knows when Pidge has stopped crying because she lifts her head enough to plop it against his chest. He glances down at the top of her head. “Anything else?”

“I’m done,” she mumbles.

“Okay.” They’re both quiet for a moment. Pidge shifts a bit, but she doesn’t pull away, and Keith takes a breath. “Look, I know—I wasn’t in the best place, when I chose to leave. Looking back, if I didn’t know that leaving would eventually lead me to my mom… if I had the chance to change anything, I don’t think I would make the same decision.” He pauses, turning everything over in his mind. “But I could sit here and think about what I did forever, and that won’t change the fact that it happened, so. I guess the only option is to move forward.”

Pidge rubs her eyes. “I guess.”

She looks up at him as he moves away a little to face her. “And I can tell you for a fact that Lance didn’t, and doesn’t, think that you hate him.” She bites down on her bottom lip to keep it from trembling, and his heart clenches a little. “You’ve known him for a really long time. You probably know him even better than me, so I know you know that. I know I wasn’t there so I have no idea what you were like to him, but if you really feel that way about how you’ve treated him, now is a better time than ever to apologize.”

Pidge sniffles again, wiping away another tear threatening to spill. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Keith repeats, allowing himself a tiny smile. “So I guess we both have a few things to apologize for.”

“Maybe just a few,” she agrees, returning a small smile. She seems to study him for another second, and then she quickly leans back in to press her face into his sweatshirt and wrap her arms around his middle. “Thanks, Keith. I’m just—really glad you came back.”

Keith lets out a short, quiet sigh, and returns the embrace.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, eyes falling closed. “I am, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, cracking my knuckles after the disaster that was s8: guess i'll do it myself
> 
> also, quick note: one of my biggest disappointments with vld in general was how pidge turned out as kind of a very shallow character. i think they could've handled her character development a lot better, but anyway i also think a lot about how keith and pidge are very similar in some ways, and i wanted to have some kind of meaningful interaction between them.  
> to clarify some of this chapter, basically pidge knew about keith almost sacrificing himself because matt told her, and when pidge confronted keith about it, he asked her not to tell anyone. and i was in no way trying to make it seem like pidge was forcing keith to tell everyone, it's just that it was time for keith to come to terms with it and pidge wanted that for him.
> 
> i think she has a very particular way of expressing how much she cares for the people she loves. she's sarcastic and dry but she also loves the team more than she knows how to explain. people forget sometimes that she's pretty young and she's still learning how to do these things.
> 
> AND! i know a lot of things are addressed here. i'm hoping i didn't detract from lance's death at all, because really that was the main focus and what drove the rest of this chapter, but i also wanted to use it as a way to set up for a lot of things that needed to be talked about. anyway, i'm rambling now but thank you for reading! the last chapter will basically continue immediately after keith's conversation with pidge and cover the rest of what happens that day!
> 
> come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.taxashi.tumblr.com)!  
> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the aftermath
> 
> or, 5 times that things are left unsaid, and 1 time that they're not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one: it's 2am and i didn't edit this  
> two: exhibit b of how they should have handled things in canon  
> three: idk i was emotional

The rest of the day is quiet.

But only in a deliberate, subdued sort of way; everyone seems to be a bit more careful around each other, in a sense that even the tiniest interaction is that much more—intentional. Genuine. Unapologetically forthright in their touch and in their words.

Needless to say, there are a few important conversations to be had, and a few important words to be shared. Some of them are left unspoken, and yet the message manages to come across all the same.

 

**1.**

The first thing that Keith notices when he and Pidge come back downstairs is that Adam and Shiro are gone, and he feels guilty for the relief that swells in his chest. That feeling is quickly cut off by the next thing he notices; namely, that Lance has clearly been crying again, cheeks wet and eyes rimmed with red.

It’s bittersweet, how breathtakingly beautiful he still looks. Keith feels guilty for that too, for thinking he has the right to think that Lance is beautiful when he’s part of what’s caused him to be anything other than happy.

Which is why he finds himself standing there at the edge of the couch, stuck halfway between something that feels foreign yet familiar all at the same time. Because their eyes meet, and there’s that same sense of panic at the idea of losing Lance, only in an entirely different context like he’s finally realizing that there’s more than one way for that to happen, and more than one person who feel the same way about him, and that they all feel the exact same way about each other.

So his eyes fall to the ground, because he can’t stand to see the heartbreak written all over Lance’s, or Hunk’s, or even Allura’s faces. “Listen, I—” He swallows around the lump forming in his throat. “I just want to say—”

But whatever he wants (wanted, intended, was attempting) to say is quickly interrupted, because Lance reaches for his hand and pulls him back down onto the couch, and wraps his arms tightly around him, and cries silent tears where his face is pressed against Keith’s neck.

Keith winds his own arms around Lance’s back, and closes his eyes and sighs into Lance’s hair. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, and Lance’s shoulders shake with the weight of the things left unsaid but that Keith understands anyway.

“I don’t care how many times you leave,” Lance mumbles. “But you always have to come back. You have to promise that you’ll always come back.”

 _How can I promise that when I don’t plan on leaving again in the first place?_ Keith thinks. But he’s never been able to say no to Lance before, so why start now? He slides his fingers through Lance’s hair and breathes in the scent of honey and cinnamon and everything that is overwhelmingly Lance, and he knows that he means it when he says: “I promise.”

 

**2.**

Allura gets to him next, after Lance has calmed down enough to let go without starting to cry again. She pulls him off the couch and into the tightest hug yet, her hair tumbling over both their shoulders, and Keith realizes distantly that this is only the second time that they’ve ever properly hugged. He’s pretty sure that this time is better.

“You always were the impulsive one,” she murmurs, and Keith actually manages a small laugh, despite the circumstances. She doesn’t let him go too far when they pull away, pressing a kiss to his forehead and cupping his face in her hands, her eyes searching his for a moment. “I suppose a lecture would do you no good.”

A knowing smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Probably not.”  

She sighs and tucks a piece of hair behind his ear, and it all feels very motherly. “And to think I ever distrusted you.”

“You know I never blamed you for feeling that way.”

“Something I’ve never quite understood,” she chuckles, shaking her head slightly and returning a small smile of her own.

Keith’s eyes are drawn over her shoulder to the armchair where Adam and Shiro had been seated, only a while previously. She turns to follow his gaze, and the smile on her face is still there when she looks back, only it’s softer, in a sad sort of way.

“They’ll be back,” she says quietly. “They certainly have a lot to talk about.”

Keith tries not to dwell on the dread swirling in his gut. He swallows. “Yeah. I know.”

 

**3.**

Everyone disperses a bit after that, even if only for a while.

Eventually Pidge steals Lance away, after Keith has been squished into one last lung-crushing hug by Hunk. She shoots a nervous look over her shoulder as they leave the room; Keith offers an encouraging smile, and she smiles back before they both disappear.

In the meantime, Keith slips away to his room. He tells himself it’s because he needs some time alone to process everything, instead of admitting that he’s still trying to avoid the inevitable confrontation he’s always dreaded most.

But if there is one thing he knows, it’s that he’s never been so sure of the things he’s going to write in that stupid letter that’s still hiding unfinished at the bottom of his bedside drawer.

Things like: _I think my heart stops every time you so much as look in my direction,_ and _I like taking you to look at the stars because I like to look at you,_ and _your smile is like the feeling you get when the sun comes out from behind the clouds and brightens the room with soft summer sunlight, and when it’s gone you can’t help but miss it and wait for it to come back again._

Things like promises, and hopes, and wishes, and dreams.

Things like: _you’re beautiful,_ and _you’re perfect,_ and _everything you do and everything you say makes me fall so much more in love with you._

Things like: _you make me want to stay._

Things. That’s the only word Keith can think of to describe them. Because they’re not just thoughts, and not just feelings, or words, or ideas or even concepts. There doesn’t seem to be a word that can accurately describe exactly what they are. They’re just—things. Good things. Important things. Things that Keith wants Lance to know like he knows himself.

He writes. He writes until his hand starts to ache, and then he writes some more until it cramps, and he only stops long enough to think of more things. He writes until he’s pretty sure he’s forgotten how actual words work, because he’s been staring at them for too long.

It’s still not perfect, but it’s definitely getting there. He almost feels like he’s still only scratching the surface, but at least it’s something.

It’s better.

 

**4.**

Keith is in the library when Lance finds him later, a book lying open and forgotten in his lap since he gave up on it in favor of looking out the window after he found himself rereading the same three lines. He’s so preoccupied with the shadows cast across the yard by the sun overhead hitting the snowdrifts just right that he doesn’t even realize Lance has entered the room until he’s slipping into place on the other side of their little nook. He immediately sets the book aside, grateful for the distraction. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Lance sighs, already hooking his ankles around Keith’s and dragging them forward until their legs are tangled in the space between them.

Keith is quiet for a moment as Lance leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes. When he doesn’t say anything for a while, Keith nudges him with his foot. “How’s Pidge?”

Lance nudges him back, eyes still closed. “She’s okay. We talked for a while. Or tried. We mostly just cried until Hunk found us, and then we all cried for a while.” He sighs again. “You should come next time. It was kind of therapeutic.”

Keith scoffs good-naturedly and shakes his head. “Whatever you say.” Another moment passes. He absently traces the lettering of the book title beside him. “And… how are you?” he asks tentatively.

“Being emotional is exhausting.” Lance opens his eyes and smiles a little when Keith huffs a laugh, folding his arms and leaning his own head back against the wall. “I wanna do something else.”

“What do you want to do then?”

“I dunno,” Lance shrugs, eyes never leaving Keith’s. “I kinda just want to look at you for a while.”

And that does something funny to Keith’s heart. But he can appreciate the sentiment. He studies the way the soft glow of the Christmas lights still strung around the window starts to mix with that of the sun, and the way it washes Lance’s skin almost gold. He tries to think of a color to match Lance’s eyes, and considers actually counting the freckles scattered across his nose. He notes the way that Lance’s hair curls at the ends and frames his face in a way that makes him look messy and proper all at the same time.

It’s overwhelming, how much it all makes Keith’s heart ache. Enough that he finds his gaze falling, because it’s almost too much to handle.

“Pidge said you missed me,” he says quietly.

Any other day, Keith would’ve been more inclined to tease him about it. But right now it’s more like another apology, in its own way. Like he’s acknowledging the fact that he left, and it hurt someone other than himself.

Lance is still staring at him when Keith looks back up. He’s pretty sure that Lance hasn’t even blinked. “Yeah,” Lance says eventually, and just as quietly. A pause, and then: “I’m pretty sure my sword had something to do with you.”

Keith blinks. “What?”

“When I got my sword,” Lance clarifies, waving a hand in the air in a vague gesture. “After you left.” Keith thinks he must still look confused, because Lance lets out a small breath and runs his hand through his hair. “I just mean—I think it was like, my way of coping, or something. With the fact that you were gone.” He pauses. “Now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure it had everything to do with you.”

Keith isn’t sure if that’s supposed to be a good or a bad thing. Either way, he keeps quiet as Lance drops his hand back into his lap.

“It was just really different, not having you around. But it was like the classic ‘you don’t know what you have until it’s gone’, sort of thing.” He looks down at his hands and drums his fingers on his thighs. “Because Hunk and Pidge were starting to get a lot closer—which is great, don’t get me wrong. But they were always off doing sciency-techy stuff that I didn’t really understand. And Allura was busy helping Lotor, and Shiro was… not Shiro. Even Coran was always busy doing coalition stuff.” He takes a deep breath. “And on top of all that, being stuck in the middle of outer space, I was just—really lonely, you know? I didn’t realize until then how much time I spent with you.”

The mental image of Lance sitting on the observation deck, or training, or walking throughout the halls of the Castle, _alone,_ makes guilt curl unpleasantly in Keith’s stomach. And yet, he’s pretty sure he would have felt the same way, if his mind hadn’t been constantly preoccupied with whatever current objective he had for whatever current mission he was on for the Blade.

Lance clears his throat. “Anyway, I always wound up on the training deck because I didn’t know how else to be useful other than just practice? And it was the only thing I could do where I _didn’t_ have to think about missing you. But then my bayard transformed into a sword during one of the simulations, and it was like—I don’t know.” He knocks his foot slightly against Keith’s leg. “Allura said it was because I was learning to adapt, or whatever. But I never really used it because I was kind of scared that it meant I had like, accepted that you were gone. And I didn’t want to do that.”

He looks up then, and catches Keith’s gaze. “But turns out I almost didn’t have a choice.”

Keith swallows down the sudden lump in his throat and turns again to look out the window. Lance doesn’t push the thought any further at first, letting it sit in the silence between them before he sighs one more time.

“Keith,” he says, and it’s all soft in a way that should be impossible and unaccusatory in a way that maybe it should be. “What in the world was going through your mind?”

The sun is creeping toward the mountains beyond, scattering light throughout the sky in fading hues of blue. Keith taps a finger against his arm. “Probably the same thing that went through yours when you saved Allura.”  

And from the silence that follows, he’s pretty sure that Lance understands.

 

 **5.**  

Hunk comes into the library later and joins their pretend-reading party.

He sits between them and Lance leans against his side and Keith splays his legs over his lap and he thinks they’re very much just appreciating their togetherness.

Allura and Pidge follow soon after. Keith somehow ends up on the floor, Lance braiding his hair behind him, Keith braiding Allura’s hair in front of him, and Allura braiding Pidge’s hair in front of her. Hunk makes the three of them take a picture. Keith sends it to Krolia.

 

 **Krolia:** i take it that everything’s been worked out?

 **Keith K:** almost everything

 **Krolia:** call me later if you get the chance  
i love you

 **Keith K:** yeah  
i love you too

 

“Are you going to tell her?” Lance asks later still, when they’re left alone once again in the library, sitting side by side on the floor against the wall.

“Eventually,” is all Keith says. He looks down at where their fingers are tangled together, where Lance is absent-mindedly tracing a finger across the bridge of his knuckles. “Are you going to tell your family?”

Lance’s finger stills. Continues. “Eventually,” he murmurs.

Keith is silent for a moment before resting his head against Lance’s shoulder, just because he can and not because he needs a reason to. “I’ll tell my mom if you promise to tell your family.”

Lance takes a long, deep breath, and lets it out, lifting his free hand. “Pinky promise.”

A tiny smile tugs at Keith’s mouth, and he lifts his own hand to link his pinky with Lance’s. “Promise.”

The sun has started to set when they move back to their little nook underneath the window, huddled together over a book about stars and trying to point out pictures of the ones they think they recognize. Lance has his chin tucked on Keith’s shoulder and arm laid loosely across his back, and Keith would be lying if he said he couldn’t stop thinking about how easy it would be to turn his head just so and kiss him on the cheek.

He’s spent at least a few minutes considering it, but doesn’t get the chance to act on it before they both hear more footsteps at the entrance to the library and look up to see Shiro.

He looks tired. Keith can see it in the way that he folds his arms and leans his weight against the doorway, and in how his shoulders seem to sink a little as he does. The white of his hair suddenly seems so stark in comparison to the scar across his nose, and yet it’s all so familiar and comforting that it makes Keith sick to his stomach. Because he can’t seem to reconcile that with the leftover guilt weighing against his chest.

So he can’t quite bring himself to make eye contact. The warmth of Lance’s arm across his back has disappeared, replaced by Lance’s hand on his shoulder. “Hi,” he offers carefully, like he can sense the tension.

Shiro blinks slowly. Tiredly. “Hey,” he answers finally. Waits for a moment. “Want to talk?” he asks softly.

Keith wonders if maybe the question is meant to be directed at both of them. He’s not sure he would answer either way.

Lance hesitates, unsure. He swallows. “Yeah.”

His hand squeezes Keith’s shoulder before slipping away—before both he and Shiro slip away, and Keith is left staring at the empty doorway.

He hates that it feels familiar.

 

_“Hello?”_

“Hey, Mom... there’s something I need to tell you.”

 

**+1**

Being emotional is exhausting.

Everyone has more or less gravitated back to the living room by the time it’s dark outside, with the exception of Shiro and Adam. Keith hasn’t seen Adam all day, and Shiro only once when he came to the library.

Hunk and Allura are the first to give in, saying their goodnights and trudging upstairs to their rooms. Pidge falls asleep on the couch, curled up against Lance’s side. Keith could probably do the same, given enough time.

Shiro makes another appearance to carry Pidge to bed. Keith watches quietly as Lance helps him detach Pidge from his side, and Shiro carefully hoists her into his arms. He wonders briefly how many times that Shiro did the same thing for him, all those years ago.

“How’s Adam?” Lance murmurs.

Shiro sighs, gingerly adjusting his hold so that Pidge’s head can rest against his chest. “He’s… had a long day. But he’ll be okay.” He pauses. Pidge stirs the slightest bit, but remains asleep. “We’ll be okay,” he adds.

He gently shifts his hold on Pidge one more time before he seems to be satisfied. Keith knows he’s stalling, from the way the next moment of silence stretches on just a bit longer than should be necessary—trying to allow Keith an opportunity. One that he doesn’t take.

“Don’t stay up too late,” he says eventually.

Keith stares down at nothing in particular and listens to the fading sound of Shiro’s footsteps going up the stairs, until eventually it’s gone and all he can hear is quiet. He and Lance stay there on the couch for a while without speaking, settled against each other’s sides. Lance’s hand finds his, at some point, and Keith isn’t sure if it’s for comfort or reassurance or both, but he doesn’t mind it either way.

He’s not particularly surprised either, at what Lance says next. “You should go talk to them.”

Keith keeps his eyes down, trying his best to ignore the uncomfortable feeling resurfacing in his stomach. He doesn’t respond for a moment, trying to make sense of it when he feels so comfortable with Lance warm beside him.

“Shiro didn’t say anything to me all day,” he mumbles, and Lance glances over at him. “We haven’t even seen Adam.”

“You haven’t exactly given the impression that you’re open to conversation,” Lance points out, but it’s unaccusing. He sighs when Keith doesn’t answer and shifts a little to better face him, although Keith still won’t look up. “I think you really scared them,” he says softly.

And Keith doesn’t know what to say. Because he knows it’s true, knows that the reason he hasn’t seemed able to bring himself to even look at Shiro is because he doesn’t want to see the heartbreak on his face and be reminded of how he almost let him down. Both of them.

Lance doesn’t press any further, but he stands from the couch and tugs slightly on Keith’s hand. “You should at least sleep on it.”

Keith is a little too tired to object, so he just nods slowly, and lets Lance pull him to his feet. They turn off a few of the lights still left on in any nearby rooms (a process that could have taken only half as long if they had just let go of one another), and start up the stairs. They pause in the hallway between their rooms, like neither of them is quite ready to separate.

Lance clears his throat. “So, um. Do you—”

“Can I sleep in your room again?” Keith blurts.

He can’t even bring himself to feel embarrassed by being so forward anymore. Lance doesn’t seem to mind anyway, judging by the way that he blinks, and then a quiet sort of smile graces his face, and Keith kind of just wants to stand there and stare at him forever.

“It does get really cold in there,” Lance agrees.

“Very cold,” Keith nods earnestly.

“Dork,” Lance mutters under his breath, even as he’s laughing quietly and pulling Keith toward his room.

But in the time it takes for Lance to tug Keith from the middle of the hallway and over to his room, Keith finds his gaze being drawn toward the closed door at the end of the hall. And it’s like everything stops for a second, because suddenly all he can think about is the two people on the other side, and an almost delayed feeling of guilt and maybe even fear hits him and he knows that he won’t fall asleep until it’s dealt with.

He doesn’t even realized that he’s stopped. But when he looks back, Lance is just watching him with a small smile on his face, like he already knows exactly what Keith is thinking. He hesitates. Opens his mouth and closes it. “Will you be okay?”  

Lance’s smile grows a little. “I’ll be fine.” His hand slips out of Keith’s and he waves him away, stepping back into his room. “Now go before you change your mind.”

Keith could kiss him, if he weren’t already backing away in the opposite direction. He wonders if Lance knows that, the way he shoots him one last smile and then closes the door, forcing Keith to turn his attention toward the end of the hallway.

They’re still awake. Keith can tell from the faint light trickling out underneath the door; he can hear them murmuring softly to one another inside. He stands there for a moment and listens, even though he can’t quite make out what they’re saying.

It’s almost comforting, in a way. Distantly he remembers all the times that he fell asleep on the couch between them, would come in and out of consciousness to the sound of them talking quietly until one of them finally carried him off to bed. Before Kerberos. Before Voltron.

His hand finds the doorknob. He stares down at where his fingers rest around it, swallowing down the nervous energy bubbling up his throat. And then he twists and pushes the door open.

They don’t notice him right away. Shiro is sitting on the edge of the bed and turned to face Adam, who’s leaning back against their pillows, glasses lying underneath the one lit bedside lamp.

“...think we should let him come to us,” Adam is saying, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“He wouldn’t even look at me. Every time I walked in the room it was like he just—shut down.”

“I don’t know what else to tell you. He’ll come to us when he’s ready.”

Shiro sighs. “This happened almost three years ago. Three years, Adam.”

“What do you mean? I thought you’d only been in space for—”

“It was longer for Keith.”

Adam stares at him, and then drags a hand down his face. “Do I _want_ to know.”

“No,” Shiro answers simply, which Adam seems to accept without question, because he doesn’t protest as Shiro goes on. “My point is, if it’s already been this long then how do we know—” He cuts off with a frustrated breath, but it’s not really directed at Adam.

Adam seems to understand, anyway. “I know, Takashi,” Adam says softly. “But he will. He always has.”

They fall into silence then. Keith’s heart hurts so much that he has half the mind to pull the door shut and turn right back around. Only instead, he finds himself pushing the door open a fraction wider, only to stop when Shiro speaks again.

“I should’ve been there.”

“Takashi.”

“None of this would’ve happened if I had been there. If I had just—”

“Takashi,” Adam repeats with a bit more feeling, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I would really rather not have to go over the list of things that happened to you again just to explain to you the obvious. Which is that there’s absolutely nothing you could have done.”

Shiro props an elbow on his knee and rakes a hand through his hair, leaving it there as he sighs, his eyes falling shut. He shakes his head. “I never would have let him leave in the first place,” he says quietly.

That does it for some reason. He would realize later, why that’s what got to him: one, because that’s when he first thought that maybe he’d picked up Shiro’s bad habit of blaming himself for things beyond his control. And two, because no amount of blaming or wishing or anything would change why Keith did what he did.

He steps out into the room and pushes the door closed behind him, and the sound makes both Adam and Shiro jump, and their heads whip toward him and Shiro is on his feet so fast it shouldn’t be possible.

The room is silent. Adam has moved to the edge of the bed, poised as if to stand at any second. And Shiro is staring at Keith, looking like it’s taking everything in him not to do—something, even if he doesn’t know what.

Keith manages to keep eye contact for one long, tense moment before his gaze drops to the ground. He focuses on a fixed point on the ground and works his jaw, curling his fingers against his palms. And then he takes a deep breath.

“You guys always told me—” He pauses, almost caught off guard by the sound of his own voice. “You always said, we get to choose our own family.” He thinks he can hear Adam moving slowly to stand, but he continues to stare resolutely at his place on the floor. “And it always made me so—angry, because it was obvious at that point that I had never had a choice. I didn’t have a choice when my mom left. Or when my dad died, or when Shiro went to Kerberos.”

Shiro and Adam both keep quiet. Keith doesn’t even know if they’re reacting at all to anything that he’s saying. He feels like he’s talking more to himself than anyone, like this is some big, grand realization—and maybe it is.

“So when Naxzela happened, I—” His eyes fall shut and he has to take another breath to steady himself. “I just kept thinking that if I didn’t do something to destroy the barrier, there would be no more Voltron. And if there was no more Voltron, there would be no one to protect Earth, and Adam, and I couldn’t—” A tear he hadn’t even known was there slips down his cheek, and his voice wobbles. “I couldn’t lose my family again.”

Another tear drips onto his cheek, and he quickly reaches up to wipe it away, determined to make it through. “So, it was either me, or—or my family, and I—” His breath catches and he tries to fight back the sudden heat building behind his eyes. “I couldn’t do that again.”

There are more tears welling in his eyes, and he can’t stop them. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out, and then he hardly has time to wipe at his face before both Shiro and Adam are there, and Keith is clinging to Adam’s shirt and leaning against Shiro as he starts to cry. “I’m sorry,” he says again, and he’s not sure who’s hand is tangled in his hair and who has their arms pressed against his back. He has to fight for a shaky breath. “It was the first time I was able to do something about it, so I—I’m sorry—”

“Keith,” Shiro breathes.

Keith’s shoulders shake with his next breath. “I love you,” he whispers, and he’s saying it to both of them, and he hopes and hopes and _hopes_ that they understand. “I just wanted—”

“We know, Keith,” Adam murmurs, and Keith buries his face against them and cries.

He’s exhausted, by the time the tears stop and the heartache that’s been twisting in his chest all day has diminished into something manageable. Able to be healed. But it’s good.

It’s so, so good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello. i'm not all that happy with this chapter in general and i feel like i was struggling to really get things across/make things flow the way i wanted to and i know the ending in particular is v lazy but! here we are
> 
> to clarify: the point of this chapter was to emphasize that all of those important conversations between team members were had. shiro talked to adam, pidge talked to lance, shiro talked to lance, keith talked to krolia, keith talked to adam and shiro. if i had the time and emotional capacity (lol) i would have loved to focus a little more on each, but anyway! just know that they're talking to each other. that's important
> 
> ALSO I PROMISE THE FLUFF RETURNS NEXT PART haha i'm done being angsty

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.taxashi.tumblr.com)!


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